Broken Ice
by afaithfulwriter890
Summary: With a breathing disability, Iceheart has never been able to live the life of a normal warrior. However, with a year left to live, she is tired of being afraid to live, and embarks on a journey with a group of rogues who teach her some of the greatest lessons she'll ever learn. OC. Old forest. Full summary inside.
1. Too Bad

_Broken Ice - Chapter 1_

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**Welcome to my new Warriors fanfiction. **

**Synopsis: **

Iceheart has a... _condition._

She was born with a breathing disability, if you could call it that. All her life, she has had to fight her own body for the oxygen she needs. Her mother, and her medicine cat both thought she would die before she would reach apprenticing age.

Iceheart is now thirteen moons old, and a medicine cat apprentice. She has spent her entire life _watching_ and never doing. Then, she makes a life-changing decision: She is no longer going to be afraid to live. However, just after her resolution is made, Iceheart is given devastating news about her health.

Her mentor tells her that he suspects she only has one more season cycle to live. In an effort to fulfill her resolution, and her dreams, Iceheart leaves her Clan, and sets out on a journey into the unknown. And it is out there, in the world of the "rogues" that Iceheart learns the greatest lesson life could ever teach her. She learns the meaning of love, friendship, loyalty, and honor.

But is it already too late?

**So, yeah that is this story. I hope you all enjoy. Remember to leave reviews - they keep me writing and posting.**

**I do not own the idea of Warriors, nor the Clans and territories depicted in this story. However, I do own these characters.**

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**Too Bad**

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**I ground my teeth just looking at them.**

Everyone around me was so… fake. They pretended to care. They pretended to be friendly with one another, but the truth was: they all hated each other's guts. And I had to watch them as their jealously gnawed at them under their carefully controlled façades. I had to watch as their anger simmered inside them, only detectable by stony glances and rigid postures.

I had to watch.

Watch.

Watch.

All I ever did was watch, and it made me sick.

Pikestar said it would be a good idea for me to become a medicine cat apprentice. He said that because of my condition that I would do well assisting Batwing since the tom was "getting older every day". Batwing was my mother's age, and my mother was still in her prime. Batwing was perfectly fine, Pikestar just didn't want me to become a warrior.

Well, I guess that you should know why. No, I'm not some prophesized villain that StarClan declared would destroy the Clans as we know them—I wish I was that interesting. Nope, truth is: I'm just a sickly kitten. Or was a kitten—not anymore. I've survived much longer than they thought I would, which I suppose is something to be proud of. When I was born, I had a breathing… difficulty, you could call it. I had a hard time taking in air, but Batwing worked day and night to strengthen my lungs, and keep my airways open. How he really kept me alive, I have no idea, but he told my mother that I could never become a warrior, or do anything too… strenuous. Batwing also mentioned that he'd heard of this condition before—a ShadowClan cat had a similar… issue. That cat had only lasted a few moons after his birth.

I had just reached my thirteenth moon, and Batwing was very proud of me—of himself, really. He viewed it as his own personal accomplishment, as if he was the one doing daily exercises to save his own hide; as if he was the one who constantly had to fight for air; as if he was the one who—

I always tried not to let Batwing bother me. Sure, he could be a pretentious fox-heart, but he was my mentor. Even though he was just as shallow as the rest of RiverClan, he was always kinder than most. Below his own desire to personal success, he did care about his patients—the cats that counted on him.

Yet, I couldn't stop thinking that Batwing, Pikestar, my mother—they're all like everyone else. All shallow. All self-absorbed. All jealous. All waiting for that one moment where they can claw their way to the top. They wanted power. They wanted to be famous among the four Clans. They wanted to be the most powerful, the most desired, the most envied, the most beautiful, the most intelligent, the most valiant, the most strategic—the ideal cat.

That's all they wanted. They didn't care about each other. They didn't care about me—all of their sympathy was hollow. They just said the things they did so they felt better about themselves. No matter how eloquently they phrased it, I always heard the same thing: "Too bad you're going to die."

But in their eyes, I would just be one less cat in the way of their agenda.

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A/N: Review?


	2. Resolution

_Broken Ice - Chapter 2_

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**I do not own the idea of Warriors, nor the Clans and territories depicted in this story. However, the characters are my own.**

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**Resolution**

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**So, I made a resolution.**

I'd decided to stop caring about the fox-hearts in RiverClan. Yeah, they'd always be there. Yeah, they'd always be ruffling my pelt, but I'd decided to try to ignore them. Acknowledging the existence of all this negative energy was only fueling the fire. If I stopped caring so much, maybe they would too.

Or at least that is what I told myself.

I knew it wasn't true, but it was nice to think about sometimes. It was nice to think it was not entirely their fault. Their egocentricity was not a consequence of the choices they'd made. It was partially in their stars, and partially because I choose to see it.

Maybe if I had been like everybody else—maybe if I had more to do than watch, I could have overlook their shortcomings.

Maybe if I hadn't been sick.

Maybe if I hadn't been supposed to die.

Maybe if I hadn't been named Iceheart because my mother thought I was cold and cruel to my Clan-mates.

Maybe if I hadn't been in the Clan.

Maybe if I hadn't the only cat with a brain.

Maybe if—

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

There are no guarantees in my life; no certainties. Only maybes. According to Batwing—according to my mother—I should've be dead then. But I wasn't.. I might've only had on season cycle left, or maybe two, or three, or maybe even one moon. I didn't know.

But no matter how much time I had left, I was not going to spend the remainder of it watching. I was tired of watching. I was tired of being in RiverClan. I was tired of listening to my mother tell me how much of a disappointment I was because I was disabled. I was tired of listening to Batwing and Pikestar whisper about my fate when I could clearly hear them. I was tired of staying in camp because my Clan-mates thought I was helpless on my own. I was tired of caring for cats I hated. I was tired of being deprived of the life I want.

I was tired of being afraid to live.

Well, guess what: I wasn't going to be afraid anymore.

I was going to live my life and no one—not my mother, not Batwing, not Pikestar—no one was going to stop me. They were not going to tell me how to live it. They were not going to be constantly hovering over my shoulder, looking down their nose at me. They were not going to be able to control me anymore.

And if I had to leave RiverClan to achieve that resolution, then so be it.

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A/N: Review?


	3. I ' m B r e a k i n g

_Broken Ice - Chapter 3_

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**In the chapter title, the letters are supposed to be all spaced out, to give the illusion of breaking, but for some reason, this site won't do that so... xD Just know that I had been creative with it, but the sight restrained my creativeness.**

**I do not own the idea of Warriors, nor do I own the Clans and territories depicted in this story. However, the characters are all my own.**

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**I'm Breaking**

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**My world shattered.**

Batwing pulled me aside shortly after I made my resolution, saying he had news.

I thought he was talking about Moonshine's kits.

Or maybe about Pondweed's cough.

Or maybe that I would be attending the next Gathering.

Or maybe that we had to make an emergency trip to the Moonstone.

I was prepared for anything, except for what was said.

He began with a pre-scripted speech. "Your life has been a hard one," he said with a patronizing tone. "From the very beginning, you were fighting against the odds. You're one of the strongest cats I've ever met, Iceheart, but… What I have to tell you is… This isn't easy for me to say. . ."

His words were laced with false sympathy, but I ignored it. His hesitation had my heart thumping in my chest, and preparing to leap into my throat. What was he talking about? What subject could possibly earn such careful treading where Batwing was concerned? This was the cat that knew nothing about subtlety, and yet he was searching for the right words. He was the cat that wasted no time in informing me about my sickness. When I was old enough to know the truth, he came straight out and told me that I was going to die in a few moons. He didn't try to phrase things carefully, or be considerate of my feelings.

I was frozen in fearful anticipation.

"Iceheart, I've been monitoring your condition. . . Your. . . fits have been becoming more and more common, and more and more violent. I've spoken to the other medicine cats, and Poppyleaf from ShadowClan told me that when she was an apprentice, she had seen a similar case. She said that when the cat's fits became like yours, the cat began to grow weaker and weaker until it. . ." Batwing stopped, watching me with remorseful eyes. "Iceheart. . ."

I felt my heart breaking.

Everything I had said I would do. . .

Everything I wanted to do. . .

I had just resolved to live my life; to not be afraid anymore.

My heart was breaking.

I was breaking.

He couldn't mean this. . .

He misheard the medicine cat.

He was lying.

It was a sick joke my mother put him up to.

Batwing wasn't. . .

Batwing was serious.

"Iceheart. . . according to what Poppyleaf told me. . . this will be your last season cycle."

I broke.

I shattered into a million pieces.

My heart throbbed in agony.

A wail rose in my throat.

Tears sprung to my eyes.

I felt like I was falling; falling into an unknown oblivion. . . falling into death. The earth gave way below my paws, and I plummeted down, down, down, down. . . From where I was, it looked like there was no bottom, but there was. I was falling so fast, the wind stung my eyes. My chest felt tight. I couldn't breathe. No matter how hard I tried, I could not take in any more breath.

Darkness consumed me, as the black, abysmal ground rose up to meet me.

I hit the ground.

And I broke.

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A/N: Please review before we go - it's what keeps me writing!


	4. A Mother's Comfort

_Broken Ice - Chapter 4_

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**I do not own the idea of Warriors, nor do I own the Clans or the territories depicted in this story. The characters, however, are my own.**

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**A Mother's "Comfort"**

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**My mother visited me.**

After Batwing destroyed all of my hopes and dreams, my mother paid me a visit. She must have heard of my attack after. . . after Batwing broke the news.

My mother is. . . a difficult cat to get along with, but we will get to why that is later. First, let's start off with her appearance.

My mother was a long-legged, long-bodied, golden tabby she-cat. Her eyes were a dark, emerald green flecked with gold, and her face was unlike most of the other cats'. Instead of being rounded, and curvy, it is sharp and angular. In fact, most her features are composed of straight, sharp lines, except for her tabby stripes that curve around her figure. Out of all the cats in RiverClan, she was the one that looked most like a lioness. If there was any cat that could ever pass off as a direct descendant of LionClan, it was my mother.

My mother's name was Sandfeather, and she was one of the strongest warriors in RiverClan. In the beginning, she had been one of the most well-liked and respected cats in the Clan. Even though most of the warriors still watched her with beady, envious eyes, they still seemed to respect her abilities. It was because of my mother's various "perfections" that my father was attracted to her.

My father was the Clan deputy at the time. His name was Maplewood, and he was a dark brown tabby tom with even darker stripes, and pale yellow eyes. Like my mother, he was a respected cat, and a good fighter, so it was only natural that the two best fighters should get together and bring more future fighters into the Clan. They expected a strong healthy litter of three to four cats. Instead, they got me, the sickly, pale-furred, scrawny little she-cat that can hardly breathe let alone fight for myself. My father blamed her for my condition. He, like most other half-witted, hypocritical males, believed that when something was wrong with the kit, it came directly from the mother. And while most of us creatures of average intelligence know that's a load of fox-dung, his stubborn brain refused to compute that he had just as much influence on my being as she did.

But, he couldn't seem to grasp that idea, even after Batwing explained it to him. The minute Maplewood had learned about my condition, he disowned me. "Not kit of mine would ever be disabled!" he had spat with contempt. At first, he had accused my mother of having an affair with another tom. It took both Batwing and Pikestar to talk him out of the ludicrous idea, and then twice as much effort to soothe a panicked and heartbroken Sandfeather. Because of my condition, a lot of rumors surrounded my birth, and my conception. There were a few that honestly believed in Maplewood's original idea that Sandfeather had taken another mate. None of them seemed to fathom how the offspring of two healthy cats could have a breathing disability. Rumors spread, and my mother's reputation and relationships were completely tarnished. Even after Pikestar and Batwing convinced him that I was his kit, Maplewood still rejected both me and my mother, saying that my weakness must have come from her, and it was her fault that I was like this.

A moon after he'd left her, Maplewood took a new mate, a she-cat named Snowberry. Snowberry was now in the nursery, expecting kits that would be my half-siblings. My mother blamed me for my father's thick-headedness. She said that if I would have been born normal, or never born at all, she never would have lost him. The Clan wouldn't think that there was something wrong with her, or that she had been unfaithful to her mate.

Yes, of course: everything was my fault.

That made so much sense.

Since my mother had the idea in her head that I was the spawn of the Dark Forest that was sent to ruin her life, she had little sympathy towards me. She pushed me a thousand times harder than the other kits, desperate to prove to Maplewood, and maybe even herself that I had strength, that I was truly his daughter. Maplewood never noticed our feeble attempts that usually ended in me having an attack and having to be rushed to Batwing's den.

It was shortly after I turned three moons old that Batwing put his paw down in protest. "You're pushing her entirely too far, Sandfeather!" he had snarled. "Her life expectancy is already low, you don't need to take moons off her life because you want to prove something to yourself! Maplewood left you because of his own stupidity. What happened between the two of you has nothing to do with Icekit. She is innocent, Sandfeather. All she did was be born, and apparently that makes her the bad guy? She did nothing wrong, so you need to swallow your stupid pride and get over what Maplewood said! The poor kit's three moons old for StarClan's sake! She needs a mother, not a mentor!" After his lecture, Sandfeather had lightened up. She allowed me to be a kit for the next three moons of my life, and even tolerated it when Batwing asked Pikestar to make me his apprentice.

But I knew she never forgave me.

My mother was never the type to forgive and forget.

But maybe Batwing had slapped some sense into her. Maybe she finally realized that there was nothing to forgive me for, and simply push the topic to the back of her mind. Yet, I saw it in her eyes. Whenever she looked at me, I saw the pain, and the anger, and the hatred there. Her voice may have been indifferent, but her eyes told the truth. She still despised me for driving Maplewood away.

That was the reason I was so surprised when she showed up, completely unannounced and, quite randomly, I might add.

"Iceheart." Her voice made my skin crawl, as a memory flashed before my eyes. I was running laps outside the nursery, with Sandfeather right beside me. Any normal mother would be encouraging their kit with loving phrases like: "Come on, Icekit! I know you can do it!" or "That's it, Icekit! Keep going! You've got it!" or, if you will permit my boldness: "Great job, Icekit! I'm so proud of you!" Nope, she had stood there, snarling at me to go faster or she'd box my ears. I flinched at the thought and tried to shove the thoughts into the deep recesses of my mind.

I turned to face her, a lump rising in my throat. "Sandfeather," I returned the greeting courteously, despite the unease that was clawing at my belly. "Was there something you needed?"

She shook her head stiffly, seeming just as unnerved as I felt. "I. . . I wanted to talk to you actually."

I purposefully looked away from her. We were in the RiverClan medicine cat den, so there were plenty of things to distract myself with. I went to the herb storage and began to count our supply of coltsfoot. I knew that we had enough to survive that remainder of newleaf, but it was still better than looking at my mother. "About what?" I mumbled, already counting the flowers.

Sandfeather sighed and stepped further inside the den. She was silent for a long time watching me work. "I just wanted to say—" she stopped suddenly, and lashed her tail in irritation. She let out a furious hiss, "Look at your mother for StarClan's sake! I'm trying to tell you something that isn't easy to say, and you aren't helping by ignoring me!"

I wasn't ignoring her, not that I would ever say that out loud, though. Fearful of what she would do next, I did as she asked, and faced her. I tried to keep my face void of emotion; I knew she was searching it. She wanted to see my pain, my fear, my sadness—but I wouldn't let her. I was not going to give her the satisfaction of seeing how much this news had crushed me. "Say it, then."

She shot me a warning glare before let out a low growl. "I'm sorry."

Her words threw me off guard. "What?"

My query only seemed to infuriate her further. "I said. . . that I'm sorry."

The words were tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them: "Sorry for what? Sorry for being a lousy mother, or sorry that I'm gonna die? Honestly, I don't care which! If you're apologizing for all the fox-dung you put me through as a kit, you aren't forgiven. I can't forgive you for that! I had a medical condition, and you forced me to do the one thing that made it worse! You think that now because I'm dying that you need to say these things? You need to 'get them off your chest' before I bite the dust?! You think that saying this will fix things!? Well, guess what, mother, those words do nothing for me! They don't fix anything. They don't change anything! You still did those things, and you still hated me for every single moment I've been alive! So you know what, you and your guilty conscience can leave me alone, and never come back! I don't want you here, I don't want to have a relationship with you! I don't care if you feel bad and regret the things you did for the rest of your life, in fact: I hope you do! I hope that you think about how you pushed me until I had an attack and fell over, unable to breathe. I hope that haunts you for the rest of your life!"

Sandfeather just stared at me with wide, stunned eyes.

My heart was pounding in my chest, and I could feel my chest tightening. I needed to calm down, or else I would have another attack. Deep breaths, I reminded myself, inhaling simultaneously. Slow your heart, and take deep breaths. Think about something else. . . Don't dwell on what she's done.

After a long time, Sandfeather spoke up. For the first time in all the years I've known her, Sandfeather sounded small and submissive, "I'm sorry you feel that way, Iceheart," she whispered.

I closed my eyes, and focused on getting my breathing under control. When I opened them, she was gone.

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A/N: Review?


	5. Broken Ice

_Broken Ice - Chapter 5_

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**I do not own the idea of Warriors, nor do I own the Clans or the territories depicted in this story. The characters, however, are my own.**

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**Broken Ice**

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**I was like broken ice.**

I was broken; splintered in every direction.

Most of you do not know what it is like to have your world suddenly shatter into a billion pieces. The only thing I can think to compare it to is to climbing to the top of a tree. You work so hard for so long to scale the side. You put all of your energy into climbing higher and higher. You push yourself to your absolute limit to achieve what others said was impossible. You are so close—almost to the top—when you fall.

You plummet down,

Down,

Down,

Down.

And you hit the hard ground.

And then you shatter.

You spent so long trying to reach the top of that tree. You tried so hard. You gave up so much time, and so much energy, only to fail when it mattered most.

That is what it felt like.

That is what it felt like to know that you were going to die in your prime. Everything was for nothing.

Everything.

All the exercises I did. All the fighting I did…

It did nothing.

I did nothing.

There is no way to describe the way I felt the first few days after Batwing told me the news. There are not enough words to possibly make you understand. Even my comparison does not accurately capture the way I felt.

I was broken.

I was broken ice.

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A/N: Sorry this chapter is so short. The next chapter will be the last one with her moping, and then we will get on with the story.


	6. Growing Cold

_Broken Ice - Chapter 6_

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**I do not own the idea of Warriors, nor do I own the Clans and territories depicted in this story. The characters, however, are my own.**

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**Growing Cold**

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**I felt myself growing even colder.**

My mother named me Iceheart for a reason. She said it was because I was too jealous of the other cats, but she has no idea how I felt. She never knew what it was like to know that you have less than a season-cycle to live.

I never was a social cat; I usually avoided others because their vanity aggravates me, as I've stated previously, but now it was worse. I was distancing myself even from Batwing, who used to be my sole companion, even when life got especially difficult.

In a way, Batwing was the parent I never had. He was nowhere as near as affectionate as a parent should be, but I never blamed him for that. He was not my father, nor was he that different from the rest of the Clan, but he was all I had. He looked down his nose at me occasionally, but it was usually only when I deserved it. He wasn't like the others that underestimated me and pitied me; he had seen how strong I could be, and he always encouraged me to keep going, in his own way, of course.

"You have to keep going, Iceheart," he had told me once when my coughing fits had begun to grow worse. "You just have to keep going, because when you stop, you die."

I had never thought about it like that before, and I never forgot it.

Even after the devastating reveal, he was no different. Every day, he would give me different tasks to do in order to distract me from my imminent death. It did little to melt the ice that was slowly surrounding my heart, but I never refused his suggestions. I did as he asked, dutifully, and usually not saying anything at all. When I would return and he'd ask if it was done, I would nod and return to my nest to sulk.

I will not lie; I wallowed in my own self-pity. I allowed it to consume me and for a good moon, I was lost in my own dismal thoughts of how I would die. It is difficult to be a young cat with your entire life ahead of you, only to learn that you no longer have that life. You are going to lose everything. Batwing seemed to have little sympathy for me; if he did, he certainly didn't show it.

My mother ceased visiting me, not that I cared. A part of me hoped that she didn't blame herself, but another part hoped she did. As morbid as it sounds, in a way, I wanted her to suffer. I hated her for what she put me through as a kit—how she pushed me until I nearly died several times. Also, selfishly, if she grieved, it would prove to me that she truly cared. But at the same time, I didn't want my death to harm her. I wanted her to go on living as if I never existed—it would be easier for her that way.

As for the others, I began to lose interest in their affairs. I knew that they would not miss me, and honestly, I didn't care. My passing would do nothing to alter their daily lives, and perhaps that was the best. The only one that I was certain my death would affect was Batwing. I was his apprentice for all intents and purposes. I hope he missed me—that way, at least someone would.

But even then, I wanted to distance myself from him. I wanted to stay away from him so hopefully, my death would not be as bad for him. In theory, if we grew apart, he would not grieve for me as much as he would otherwise.

So, I allowed myself to continue to grow cold, until it felt as if my heart was entirely concealed in ice.

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A/N: Review?


	7. A Glimmer of Hope

_Broken Ice - Chapter 7_

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**I do not own Warriors.**

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**A Glimmer of Hope**

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**Batwing changed everything.**

He came to me one day when I was listless in my depression. My mentor stormed into the den, irate. "You can't do this, Iceheart!" he snarled, stalking toward me.

I looked over at him tiredly, not intimidated by his dramatic entrance. "Why not?"

Batwing sighed exasperatedly and lashed his tail. "Because, you cannot—you will not live your last season-cycle in this den staring at the wall. You've fought too hard to—"

"I've fought too hard to what, Batwing?" I queried sharply. I was surprised by the venom in my voice. "It doesn't matter how hard I've fought, or how hard I continue to fight; I'm a dead cat. . . All I can do is. . . wait. . ."

"No it's not!" he protested, shaking his head. "Iceheart. . . in a way, this. . . knowledge liberates you. We've always been so. . . careful about you and your condition, but now. . ." the medicine cat paused, trying to phrase his words cautiously.

"Now we don't have to worry because we know for sure that I'm going to die?" I groused.

Batwing growled. "You're missing my point, Iceheart. This means that you don't have to live worrying about what will happen if you. . . exert yourself too often. You can. . . try new things without having to be afraid about what it will do to damage your health in the long run. . . Do you understand what I'm saying?"

I knew that he was trying to cheer me up, but I couldn't see how this was meant to cheer me up. "I think so. . ." I said, my voice betraying my confusion.

The medicine cat glanced over his shoulder, as if he was afraid someone was eavesdropping. "Iceheart," he murmured, turning back to me. "I can help you leave the Clan."

My eyes widened like an owl's. "Huh?"

"I know you hate it here," he meowed softly. "I know you would like to leave. . . I am willing to. . . help you get out."

"And where would I go?" I asked, pointing out the hole in his plan. "I would be living on my own, which would be even worse."

Batwing shook his head. "I know. . . someone that would be willing to. . . assist you. She will help you. . . see the world outside the Clans."

I was dubious. Was Batwing really offering this? The idea of freedom—of seeing the world—was imperceptible to me. In a way, I had always imaged it—always dreamed of getting away from these boring Clan cats and living my life for me. I've always been. . . constricted by my condition that I never got the chance to live, or do the things I always dreamed of. Just the thought of being able to achieve this dream made my head spin.

I couldn't even think of a valid argument against his offer. "How?"

"If you want to. . . accept, we will leave tonight to meet my friend. She will take you to her den, and the two of you will decide what to do from there. . . I will tell the Clan. . . the truth. I will tell them that you wanted to enjoy your last few moons, and I did not object to that wish," he told me.

I searched his face, looking for an indication that I was being toyed with, but saw none. He was as honest and as genuine as always. I closed my eyes for a few moments, briefly mulling over the idea. I made my decision with the reasoning: What else do I have to lose.

Finally, I nodded. "We'll leave tonight, then."

Batwing gave me a friendly purr and dipped his head. As he left me to my thoughts, I couldn't help but tremble in excitement. For the first time in a very long time, I felt hope.

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A/N: Review?


	8. Meeting Dove

_Broken Ice - Chapter 8_

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**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Meeting Dove**

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**Dove was a little rough around the edges.**

When night fell, Batwing smuggled me out of camp. Once we were safely out of camp, and out of earshot of the guards, Batwing visibly relaxed. His fur, which had been prickling with unease the moment our plan went into motion, lay flat, and his posture loosened. He even became somewhat chatty. "Dove is. . . a little rough around the edges, but once you get past. . . well, the way she is, you'll realize that she's the greatest cat you'll ever meet. I swear it, Iceheart. If anyone can keep you safe, show you the world, and give you a life worth living, it's Dove."

With the way Batwing built her up, I suspected Dove to be some kind of celestial being that had the powers of StarClan. What I got was anything but that.

We met Dove at the border, and when I saw her, I felt my stomach drop. Dove was a pure-white she-cat. Her fur was long, but a bit un-kept. There were some dirty, matted patches, and then there were some that were silky and smooth. Her eyes were small and brown, and reminded me of a weasel's eyes. They had a deceptive, resentful gleam to them that made me uncomfortable. But the most noticeable thing about her was her scar. Dove had a large, ugly scar across the right side of her face. Four large slashes stretched from the base of her ear all the way down, across her eye, across her cheek, across her nose, and to the tip of her chin. It looked as if some large animal—a badger, maybe—had sliced its claws across her face. Other than the scar and the unruly pelt, Dove was actually a rather good-looking she-cat.

Batwing bounded up to her like an energized kitten. As I neared, I heard him purring as he touched noses with the rogue. "Dove, it's so good to see you."

Dove gave him a friendly nudge and purred in return. "It's good to see you too, Batwing." Her eyes then drifted to me, and she suddenly became wary. "You. . . brought a friend. I thought you said that the Clan couldn't find out about us. . . ?"

_Us? Is she. . . ? What is she. . . ? Batwing has a. . . ? She's Batwing's. . . ?_ The concept of Batwing ever being in love, or having a mate was absolutely alien to me, especially since he was not only my medicine cat, but my father-figure as well. I never thought that he would ever take interest in that sort of thing. It was just. . . bizarre.

"Dove, this is Iceheart," Batwing meowed calmly. "Don't you remember me telling you all about her?"

Dove pondered this for a moment before nodded. "Oh yes, you're apprentice," she recalled. The white she-cat took a step toward me and dipped her head. "I'm pleased to finally meet you, Iceheart."

"I'm pleased to meet you too. . . Batwing never mentioned you until just earlier today."

Pain flashed in Dove's eyes, but she quickly concealed it. "Yes, well. . . he mustn't let the Clan know that we're mates. If they knew. . . Batwing said that they would cast him out for breaking their code."

"I know," I replied, perhaps a little too sharply. I grew up in RiverClan for StarClan's sake! I didn't need some rogue to tell me how my Clan worked! "So, when are we leaving?"

Dove's ear twitched. "Excuse me?"

"Um, Iceheart she doesn't. . . know about that yet. . ." Batwing interjected, looking rather sheepish.

"Know about what?" the she-cat demanded, rounding on her mater. "What exactly did you tell her, Batwing?"

Batwing shrank away from her, which I found somewhat comical. Back in RiverClan, Batwing was the one with the sharp tongue, always ready to reprimand mouse-brains, but out here, in front of Dove, he was cowering like a frightened mouse. "Dove. . . Iceheart only has one more season cycle to live."

At this, Dove's eyes widened. "Oh my spirits," she breathed.

"Yes, and. . . she doesn't want to spend the time she has left sitting in my den watching other cats live their lives. She wants. . . a chance to live a life of her own. I told her that you. . . you would be able to help her with that."

Dove was quiet for a very long time, and for a while, I wasn't sure whether or not she was going to agree to Batwing's suggestion. Her eyes were fixated on the ground, but they kept flickering back and forth, and her face kept changing as she had worked out some internal struggle. At long last, she sighed in defeat and met my gaze. "This is what you want?"

I nodded. "Yes. . . More than anything."

And that much was true.

She studied me further for a few moments before dipping her head. "Okay. I'll. . . take you back to my friends, but I am not going to wait up for you. You keep up with me, or you're on your own—disability, or no disability. This isn't the Clans, sweetheart—we aren't bound by any code of honor. When you're out here, its every cat for themselves—it's the way things are, and you best get used to it. Life out here is like a test—you pass or fail on your own. Do you understand?"

Understand? I was looking forward to it!

"Yes."

"Good," Dove approved, before looking to Batwing. "So. . . I'll see you later?"

My mentor's eyes brightened considerably. "Tomorrow night?"

Dove purred. "I like the sound of that."

I rolled my eyes. Who knew that Batwing could act like a love-struck apprentice? When they were done fawning over each other, Dove turned to me and shook her head. "Alright," she said laboriously. "Let's go."

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A/N: Review?


	9. Is that you, Death?

_Broken Ice - Chapter 9_

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**After Chapter 11, there will probably be a huge gap between the time I upload that and Chapter 12. Mainly because all of this is prewritten. When we get to Chapter 12, it will be a chapter I am writing currently, meaning it will take longer for chapters to come out.**

**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Death?**

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**Death is peaceful in a morbid sort of way.**

Dove led the way, flawlessly navigating through the dense undergrowth of the land outsideRiverClan territory. While this place was unfamiliar to me, I knew that this was a place she had walked several times, and could follow the invisible path with ease. Afraid that I would lose her in the thick vegetation, I stayed as close as I could, making sure that I could not only see the tip of her tail, but her entire backside at all times. It would be downright laughable if, after all this work and effort, I died a tragic death because I got lost.

After a few minutes of weaving through the forest, I felt my chest tighten. My lungs were just beginning to burn, and it was more annoying than anything. I wanted to show Dove that I was strong—that I could keep up with her, but I was already failing. _Please don't do this now,_ I silently begged my faulty lungs. _Dove said she wasn't going to wait for us!_

But my lungs ignored me. They were practically wailing in my chest, clawing at my insides. _Air!_ they screamed. _We need air!_

"Dove. . ." I tried to gasp, but my voice would not come. The only sound I was capable of producing was a wheeze. I kept trying to call her name, but I knew there was no way she could hear me. I used my reserves of energy to nudge her rump with my head. In my desperation, I wasn't aware of my strength, and knocked her off her paws.

The white she-cat cursed, and whipped around to face me. Her face was alive with her fury, but when she saw my heaving chest, and my struggle to find air, she became concerned. "Great spirits," she breathed, taking a step back. "I. . . I. . . I don't know what to do! I'm sorry, I don't. . . Wait!" Without another word, she turned away and disappeared into the foliage.

_This is it then,_ I thought as she left me. _This is how I die. I never even got a chance._

I don't know how long I was on my own, and how long I suffered. I remember collapsing to the ground, unable to breathe. It felt as if someone had dropped a boulder on my chest. My lungs refused to expand, and my head was beginning to get fuzzy. My vision blurred into a single mass of color, all individual things slipping out of focus. The sounds of the forest also faded away, and it unnerved me. I didn't like not being able to hear the bird calls, and the sound of the wind swishing through the branches overhead and rustling the ferns just a few cat-lengths away. It made my inevitable death seem so much closer; more tangible.

In a very odd sensation, I could feel death's icy fingers stretching out to pull me into the abysmal darkness. Blackness lined the edges of my vision now, threatening to consume my last link to the waking world. I had lost all feeling in my body except for the burning in my chest, and my sight was the only sense I had left to rely on, as crude as it was in that moment. Don't let it take me! I wanted to yowl. I felt death's fingers wrap around my chest. The fire that raged there suddenly began to cool as the cold seeped into my body. I felt myself still. My vision faded to black.

And I was lost.

Most cats have this idea that death should be violent, bloody, messy—or something along those lines. They think that it should be full of pain and suffering, that is only relieved when you finally take that jump into the afterworld. But the truth is, it's not. At least it wasn't for me in those few moments. Life is where you feel pain and suffering. Life is where you get hurt, and where you wallow in your sorrow and self-pity. Death is something else. Death is tranquil; it is a release. You don't have to feel anything anymore. You feel as light as a feather, as if a humongous weight has been lifted for you shoulders. It is a euphoric feeling; one that is not too different from ecstasy.

In that moment, I felt calm. I felt better than I had ever felt before. Nothing else mattered - nothing needed to matter. I could just relax, and let the darkness that had once been cold and frightening, cradle me in his arms. It was suddenly warm and inviting. It offered protection and comfort, and it kept pulling me in, further and further until I was certain that I was dead. There was no going back, surely. I was too far gone in this glorious place.

But then I heard voices. They were faint, but definitely there.

"She's this way! Hurry!"

"Oh great spirits! What happened to her?"

"Is she dead?"

"Sparrow, help her!"

I distantly felt someone roll me onto my side. I could still hear the voices nearby; they sounded frantic, as if they actually feared for my life. Why would they care? They hardly knew me. My own Clan didn't care this much. "We need some juniper berries! They'll help her breathe!" the tom I assumed was Sparrow ordered. "Falcon, can you go find some?"

"On it!"

"Will she be okay?"

"I don't even know if she's alive."

They all needed to work on their nest-side manner, as Batwing called it, but other than that they seemed to be adamant about getting me back to the waking world. The burning in my chest was not as a bad now, and seemed to be subsiding, but that may be due to that state of limbo I was in at the time. I don't know how much time passed after that Sparrow cat told Falcon (whoever that is) to go find those berries, but it didn't seem to take long. The next thing I knew, something was being forced down my throat. Someone was forcibly moving my jaws to chew whatever they'd put in my mouth, and I could feel the juices of whatever it was trickling down my throat. To my surprise, the burning ceased entirely, and I, for the first time in many season cycles, took a large gulp of air. My vision began to slowly return, as did the rest of my senses. As I slowly became aware of myself and my surroundings again, I heard meows of praise for Sparrow, and words of sympathy for myself. I didn't have the energy to despise them.

"Thank the spirits you're alright!" Dove exclaimed. When my vision came into focus, she was standing right in front of me, her brown eyes were wide, and I could still smell her fear-scent. "I thought you were dead. . . If something happened to you. . . Oh, Batwing would have killed me."

On any other occasion, I would have had some snide thought noting how she only cared about what Batwing would have done, and not whether or not I lived or died. Maybe it was because I didn't have the energy, or. . . yeah, that was it.

When the cats seemed satisfied that I was alive and well for the time being, they all visibly relaxed. Dove took a deep breath, and put on a brave face. She looked around at the eight cats that were gathered around us. "Well. . . Iceheart. . . This is my group. You better get used to them, because these are going to be your new companions until you. . ." she trailed off, averting her eyes from mine. But I knew what she was going to say.

_Until I die._

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A/N: Review?


	10. The Group

_Broken Ice - Chapter 10_

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**Heyyy everybody. Okay, so I am in a really bad mood. Some of you may know me as Skyfall from the Warrior Cat Forums, now called the Erin Hunter Community. I post all of my Warriors fanfictions there as well. Recently, two of my fics, Alone Togehter (which is posted here), and another which has not been posted here yet were deleted. This is not the first time this happened either. And there was no reason for them to be deleted, either. All artwork on those pages were my own. The writing (obviously, no TRUE writer EVER plagiarizes) was my own. There were no arguments or controversial conversations on the threas, and I just don't know what happened. They were deleted for no reason with no explanation. And this is not the first time this happened either. I'm sorry for boring you all with this, but I needed to vent. Also, if this happens again, I will NOT be posting there anymore, and all my Warriors fanfics will be STRICTLY posted here and possible on deviantART if I feel the need.**

**So, just a heads up. There might not be some Warriors writing for a while mainly because I am boycotting the fanfiction forum there for a while, probably to no avail, but still. I emailed the moderators of the site and everything asking calmly if they could at least _explain _why they did it, and they aren't even bothering to answer. So I don't know what's up.**

**Anyway, enough of my problems. Sorry to bore you all. I hate writing long author's notes because every now and then I get hate for them, but I felt the need to post this one, mostly because of the future lack of Warriors-related writing.**

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**The Group**

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**Comradery is weird.**

I looked around at the group of cats that I suppose were meant to be my new family. I remembered Dove mentioning friends, but there were eight or nine cats here. The majority of them hung back, but a few stood nearby, watching me with either welcoming, or wary eyes. I suppressed a low growl of frustration. Why did Batwing have to leave out the detail that I was antisocial? I didn't do good with anything that involved interacting with others.

"Well, everyone," Dove began, clearing her throat and looking around at her friends. "This is Iceheart, as I've mentioned. She is a friend of my friend, and she has come to live with us."

"Iceheart?" a gray she-cat rasped. Her narrowed green eyes raked over my form, as if she was sizing me up. "Sounds like one of those Clan cats! Dove, do not tell me you brought one of their filth here!"

Dove's hackles rose. "They are not filth, Ange, and I promised my friend that I would take care of her. If her name bothers you so much, just call her Ice."

_Ice._

For some reason, that name made something inside me jolt. I wondered what it would be like to bear a rogue's name. It would be snipping the last tie I had to RiverClan. But was I really sure I wanted to do that? I would be forever saying goodbye to Batwing, and the few decent memories I had there. A part of me—the more dominant part—was ready to leave it all behind and embrace my new existence, but a smaller, nostalgic part clung to those old memories.

"I will do no such thing!" the cat named Ange spat. "Those Clan cats are not to be trusted! How dare you bring one of them to our group!"

"Calm down, Ange," a light brown tom soothed. His voice was high-pitched, and for a moment, I thought that a she-cat had spoken. The tom was gangly, but his eyes were warm and welcoming. "Maybe she isn't so bad. I don't think she is. And even if she is this big, bad Clan cat, there are nine of us and one of her. I think we can handle it." He then turned to face me and took a big step forward so he was only a few mouse-lengths away. "Hi, my name's Falcon, pleased to eat ya!" He then laughed as if what he said was the funniest thing in the world. His laughter was contagious, and soon I found myself giggling along with him.

He gave me a friendly nudge and purred. "See, Ange? She doesn't look like a big, scary monster, does she?" He turned to me, then. "You're gonna fit right in here, Ice! You'll see."

There was that name again.

An old mottled tom stepped forward to speak next. His eyes, while dulled slightly with age, were still very bright. "My name is Sparrow," he meowed.

I knew that name. "You're the one that saved my life… Thank you," I added after a few moments.

Sparrow dipped his head. "It was nothing, really. I would have done it for anyone. Welcome to the family."

Even though Ange still seemed to be disgusted with my presence, the others stepped forward. They seemed welcoming enough, if a little unnerved. There were nine cats in all—Falcon, Sparrow, Ange, Dove, Dove's brother Pire, a pale gray tom named Nettle, a russet-furred tom called Hunter, a brown tabby she-cat named Lithe, and a young gray-she-cat by the name of Damp.

All in all, they were a strange bunch. But they didn't feel like the Clan either. They were close, that was apparent—they considered each other to be family—but there was no. . . stiffness, no unease with them. In the Clan, there were cats who had their own problems with one another. Everyone was plotting against one another—everyone striving to achieve power. Here, that was not the case. There was no leader, no set of rules to follow. In a way, they were on their own, and in a way, they were closer than the Clan. It was bizarre, but. . . appealing to me. I liked the idea of this freedom they had—the freedom to do whatever you wanted—whatever you felt like.

The Clans always said that rogues were savages—unsophisticated, wild, feral. They said that they had no moral code—no rules to make them honorable. They were lairs, thieves, murders, and traitors. They couldn't be trusted. They were the scum of the earth. They gave our kind a bad name. From the time I was a kit, I had had these thoughts shoved down my throat.

These cats seemed to be anything but that.

They were different, yes, but not in a bad way. In my opinion, they were different for the better.

Dove led the way back to their camp, and I followed her. The rogues crowded around me, asking me various questions like: What is life in the Clans like? What Clan were you apart of? Did you ever fight with the other Clans? What kind of prey did you hunt? How did you survive in leaf-bare when you stuck to one place all the time? I answered them all to the best of my ability. Honestly, there were a lot of things I wasn't sure about. Being stuck in the medicine cat den my whole life, I didn't know much about what went on outside the camp itself. I rarely attended Clan meetings except when Batwing forced me out of the den. And I was very uneducated about everything hunting and fighting related.

Their camp wasn't too far away—maybe about half a sky-length from where I had collapsed during my little "attack". The camp was open—so open that I thought it was a ludicrous place for a camp. The forest we had been traveling through had thinned out a quarter of a sky-length back, and we now plodded through open field. The grass was about ankle-high and dotted with clover flowers. It was very spacious, and oddly unnerving. I had never seen so much land in all my life. These plains stretched on as far as my eyes could see in every direction, except from the one we came from (I could faintly see the outline of the trees we'd walked through earlier).

I didn't even know we were in the camp until our little procession came to a halt. "Well, Ice," Falcon mewed from his place beside me. "Welcome to our camp!"

The camp had no boundaries, really. No barriers to keep out enemies or predators. No pile of prey for them to pick from. No definitive dens for them to sleep in at night. The only plus to it was that their "camp" was located in a small little dip in the earth. There were three medium-sized boulders scattered throughout the area. I noticed that the largest of the three had a small den dug out underneath it. It was small, but looked like it could fit a cat or two. It was unimpressive, but. . . homey.

The cats began to disperse, some sitting close together, chatting about nothing worthy of note; some heading off to hunt; and some sitting off in solitude, aloof from the others. Falcon, however, stayed at my side. "Since you don't really know anyone that well, I figured I'd be your chaperone until you settle in," he meowed.

If it were any other cat, I might have told them to leave me alone, or that I didn't need another shadow, but not Falcon. There was something about his cheerful eyes, and his high-pitched mew that made me feel. . . almost relaxed.

"Come on, I'll show you where the most of us sleep," he meowed, leading me over to the one rock that had a den dug out underneath it. "We mostly sleep in here . . . but we can't all fit, so we sorta overflow onto the outside. But we take turns sleeping outside, so it's not like. . . unfair or anything. Oh, and during the summer time, we usually just sleep outside under the stars. It's super pretty! Have you ever slept out under the stars, Ice?"

_Ice._

This new name Falcon seemed to have given me would take some getting used to. But I could get used to it. "No I haven't," I admitted. "Back in the Clan, I slept in a den with my mentor, Batwing. We were always under the shelter of these stones. I hardly went outside at all, actually because of my. . . sickness."

His face fell at the mention of this. "Yeah. . . what. . . exactly was that back there?"

I sighed. "I guess you should know since I'll be living with you," I murmured. "I'm sort of. . . dying."

Falcon's eyes widened. "What? How? Why?"

I forced a smile, which wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. Falcon seemed to be very naïve—almost kit-like sometimes. "I don't know what's wrong exactly, but my lungs can't. . . work well, I guess. I have a hard time breathing, which keeps me from doing a lot of things. I left my Clan because. . . Well, I was going to die, and I didn't want to die surrounded by cats I didn't like. I wanted to. . . to. . . to live before I died, if that makes any sense."

His ear twitched as he processed this. "I think so. . . Do you. . . know how long you have?"

"One more season-cycle."

Falcon frowned. "That's. . . awful." He was quiet for a long time. I began to feel bad for telling him all this. Wasn't it my responsibility to reduce the amount of cats that were hurt by my death? I shouldn't bring pain on others in my last moons. I looked away, but Falcon's voice made me look back. "Hey, we'll just have to make the most of that time, right?"

I felt myself smile—genuinely smile. Even though it seems a little hard to believe, Falcon was the first cat that I came across that didn't really seem. . . bothered by my condition. Batwing was a close second, but he seemed to lack the optimism that Falcon had. Falcon had felt bad for a few seconds, but didn't let that keep him down. He didn't dwell on it, and he didn't let it create an awkward air between us, which was a rare thing.

As the day wore on, I felt myself loosening up even more. I mostly talked with Falcon, but every now and then, some of the others would come over and talk for a while. And, the strangest thing was: I didn't mind. They didn't fuss over me or hover, they just. . . went about their daily business, which made me feel comfortable.

So, as night fell, and we all bedded down for the night, I curled up beside Falcon with a smile on my face. "Goodnight, Ice," I heard cats whispering to me. My smile widened, and I snuggled closer, enjoying the warmth that radiated off my new friend's body. As I began to slowly began to drift off to sleep, I couldn't help but think: Yeah, I could definitely get used to this.

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A/N: Review?


	11. Melting

_Broken Ice - Chapter 11_

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**I do not own Warriors.**

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**Melting**

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**It grew hard to be negative.**

I cannot describe what it is like to know you're going to die. I suppose that us cats that are going to die have a different mentality. Cats who have the rest of their lives ahead of them are less eager to do things. They tend to adopt the motto: "oh, well I can do that tomorrow," or: "I'll get to it one day". Cats like me don't think that way. We don't know if we'll have a tomorrow. We don't want to wait, because then we'll lose chances to do other things. We want to make the most of what we have left.

Ever since I joined the rogues, I began to think that way. Back in RiverClan, I was so negative, so pessimistic. But now, things were different. Now I had cats all around me that care about me, and want to see me to better. Falcon was constantly at my side—a loyal friend, and a trusted supporter. Sparrow and Dove weren't far behind. They encouraged me constantly. Helped me with my exercises, and always made sure I had something to eat, and water to drink.

They made it hard to . . . think about what was going to happen to me. They made it hard to accept it as a reality.

For the first time, in a very long time, I found myself . . . happy.

Genuinely happy.

The closer I became to these cats – I felt myself growing softer. I allowed myself to feel hope again. I allowed myself to feel happiness again.

I began to melt.

"Ice, do you want to come hunting with us today?" Pire called, his soft eyes blazing a bright evergreen at the mention of what I had come to learn was his favorite pastime.

Dove stood up suddenly, her eyes wary. "Pire, that might not be a good idea," she told her brother gently. "You know how Ice . . ."

"Can't breathe?" I offered with a small smile.

"That's not what I was going to say," Dove immediately defended, but I raised my tail for her to stop.

"It's okay, Dove. And, yeah, Pire. I actually do want to go." I pushed myself to my paws and started toward him, hoping my lungs would behave. "When do we leave?"

Pire purred in delight and looked over to Lithe. "You ready now?"

The tabby she-cat nodded, giving her white paw a final lick. "Yeah, if you two are," she meowed, bounding over. She gave me a warm look and nudged me with her head. "I'm excited you get to come along! Maybe we'll finally get to see how the Clans hunt."

I snorted and flicked my tail dismissively. "I told you – I didn't do the hunting. I was a medicine cat apprentice."

"Yeah, like we know what that is," Pire teased.

Rolling my eyes, I shoved him away with my paw. "C'mon, silly, get movin' . . . Who knows? Maybe I'll catch something today!"

"Yeah, and maybe hedgehogs will fly," Pire snickered in response.

"Pi! Leave her alone!" Dove called after us as we headed toward the forest.

We all laughed and walked in straight line. It reminded me of how some of the apprentices would take walks in the forest and carry on. It was funny – I actually felt like a carefree kitten with no worries. I felt . . . bubbly. It was almost as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Had I just decided to ignore what was happening to me? Or had I finally come to accept it? I didn't know, and I doubted I ever would.

Honestly, I didn't care. I felt good – better than I'd ever felt before.

I knew that I was still going to die.

I knew that my time was beginning to run out.

But I didn't care.

I was melting, and that was just fine with me.

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A/N: Review?


	12. Too Good to Last

_Broken Ice - Chapter 12_

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***tour guide's voice* And if you look just below you, you will find conflict numero uno. **

**If you like this story, please check out the novella, "Alone Together". You can find it on my profile.**

**I don't own Warriors.**

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**Too Good to Last**

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**If it's too good to be true, it usually is.**

The hunt had been going so well. Pire had caught a large pigeon for the entire group to share, and he and Lithe were in the process of chasing a rabbit into my paws for me to catch. And I would have caught it to if _it_ hadn't shown up. I don't even respect _it_ enough to give it a gender at this point. You'll see why.

The rabbit was coming right toward me. It was plump, and enough to keep the group fed for a day or two. I was just about to leap forward and sink my fangs into its soft flesh when a large, dark brown paw slammed down onto the creature's back. I listened and cringed as I heard the rabbit's spine snap under the paw's weight. The rabbits squealed once, and then stilled, a small stream of blood trickling out the side of its mouth.

I looked up to come face-to-face with a set of dark amber, almost black eyes. I shivered under their intense gaze. There was an undeniable coldness and indifference there, and hiding behind that was a mixture of rage and hatred that was just barely peeking through a carefully controlled mask. "Prey stealer!" the cat – a tom – snarled, taking one massive step toward me so he was less than a mouse-length away.

In turn, I took a step back, my pelt beginning to bristle with fear. There was no way I would be able to protect myself if he attacked . . . Where were Pire and Lithe?

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I replied, doing my best to keep my voice calm and collected. But I knew it was futile. My fear-scent was probably pouring off me in blatant waves. "This land belongs to no one, and I am free to hunt as I please!"

He chuckled darkly. "You say that with such confidence, but I can smell your fear, kitten! And this land belongs to me and my cats!"

"Says who?" I shot back, feeling rather bold. What right did this tom have to take control of free land? I felt like I was back in the Clans again – that was practically all they did. They'd bicker, and then they'd start wars over tiny chucks of land that couldn't support one cat let alone a Clan! It was foolish, and all a part of their pathetic, selfish power-struggle. "You have no authority over me and my friends."

"Ice?" Pire's voice suddenly sounded. I turned to see the brown tom emerge from a clump of ferns. He bounded toward us, Lithe following close behind. _About time you two showed up! _I thought indignantly. Pire gave the dark brown tom a skeptical look. "Who is this? What's going on here?"

"You're stealing my prey!" the tom growled once more. The fact that he was now outnumbered did little to humble what was apparently a _massive_ ego. "You are trespassing on my territory, and it is my duty to drive you out."

Pire's hackles rose. "This land doesn't belong to anyone. We aren't the Clans – we don't claim territory out of selfishness so others cannot benefit from it!"

"This isn't about selfishness!" A new voice snarled. I peered around the tom just in time to see a tortoiseshell she-cat come into view. Her claws were unsheathed, and her amber eyes were just as hard as the toms. "This is about keeping our group alive! We have mouths to feed, and kits on the way. We need to carve out a territory _now_ to ensure the survival of future generations! And before you say 'go somewhere else when the prey runs out', we can hardly travel with newborn kits, and waiting until they are old enough to survive the journey could mean death for us all. We are doing what is _necessary_ to protect our own!"

"Well said, Rose Thorn," the tom meowed approvingly. "Unfortunately, I think even with your simple, and understandable explanation, these thick-headed beetle-brains still won't get it."

_Rose Thorn_? That almost sounded like a Clan name.

"In that case, let's drive them out, Fallen Shadow."

_Fallen Shadow? Who _are _these cats?!_

"In case you haven't noticed, you're outnumbered here," Pire pointed out. He was flexing his claws, and trying to look intimidating. Even though these two new cats didn't know about my disability, when it came down to fighting, there wasn't much I could do except try to the best of my ability, and probably end up having an attack of my own.

Rose Thorn snickered. "We've trained ourselves to fight! We are stronger and better than you _rogues!_"

"Leave now, don't come back, and we'll spare you," Fallen Shadow added after a moment. "We aren't murderers, but we _will_ protect what is ours!"

"It's not yours to—"

"Pire, maybe we should just go," Lithe suggested, putting a soothing tail on his shoulder. "Is fighting these mouse-brains really worth it?"

"_Mouse-brains?!_" Rose Thorn hissed in outrage. I saw as the tortoiseshell she-cat crouched, her shoulders bunching. She was preparing to spring, and she was aiming right at Lithe! Fortunately, before she could leap, Fallen Shadow stepped in front of her.

"Enough," he growled. His voice was deep, and commanding. I shuddered and let out a breath I hadn't known that I was holding.

"I agree with Lithe," I meowed. "Please, Pire."

I watched as my friend narrowed his eyes dangerously. He gave Fallen Shadow a fearsome glare before growling. He set his jaw and flattened his ears against his head. "Fine," he snarled darkly. He didn't take his eyes off the rival tom. "But don't think that this is over!"

I felt my blood chill in my veins. What did Pire mean by that? Did he think that our group was going to fight for this land?

"We're looking forward to that fight," Rose Thorn hissed in response. "Now get going." Her eyes drifted in my direction. "Wouldn't want to upset your companions, would you?"

Pire glared at her once more before turning around to head back to camp. I followed him, glancing over my shoulder every few seconds to make sure they wouldn't ambush us while we had our backs turned. They seemed like the kind of cut-throats that would do a thing like that. They could talk about their honor, and doing only what they _had_ to do all they wanted, but they couldn't fool me.

I remembered a time when RiverClan had troubles with rogues like that. They could have supported themselves and their families with the land outside the Clan territories, but it wasn't enough for them. They were greedy and selfish, and didn't care about any other cat that might need that land to hunt, or might need help in future seasons. If I had been a warrior, I might not have had this view point. I would have been raised to fight and protect RiverClan territory. But I was not trained to be a warrior; I was trained to be a medicine cat. Batwing always told me to keep an unbiased opinion, and help any cat you might meet no matter what their allegiance because it is the right thing to do. Even though I despised Clan life, that was one thing I was glad I got the chance to learn. If I had been born a rogue or even without my disability, I might never had thought about it that way.

As we padded back to camp, I still could not suppress the uneasiness in my gut. I remembered how the rogues fought fiercely in an effort to take RiverClan land. I remembered sitting in the medicine cat den with Batwing treating horrible injuries that nearly made me wretch. I knew that these rogues would not give up easily – rogues seldom did.

But that raised another question – what would my group do in response to this? Would they fight just as hard? Pire seemed to think so, but Lithe was less enthusiastic. What did this mean for us? Were we going to leave and let these rogues have their way?

Or would we fight?

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A/N:

**As I said above, if you like this story, please read it's novella, "Alone Together". It is a small story - only six chapters long, and is all about Dove and Pire. I really like that story, and I would love it if it got some love. If you wanna know about Dove and Pire's pasts, take a look at it! I'd really appreciate it!**

Please review!


	13. Cats or Mice?

_Broken Ice - Chapter 13_

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**Okay, I KNOW that this has not been updated in forever, and there is a reason for that.**

**I have gone back and edited the entire story. I've gotten rid of RiverClan and replace with with my original Clan, MarshClan. The story is still pretty much the same. The main difference is that the Clans have been changed, and I gave Batwing a little more back story in a previous chapter.**

**I HAVE NOT edited this version of the story mainly because I don't want to go through the process of deleting and reuploading chapters. I know there is a way that you can simply edit them, but I fear that it will take too long, and I just don't see it as necessary. Just keep these changes in mind. Almost everything is the same except for those two details.**

**I also plan on expanding this universe.**

**Some of you may know of the companion novella to this, Alone Together, which gives us the back story of Dove and Pire. Another story - a much longer one - is currently being written as well. It is all about the story of Sandfeather - how she met Maplewood, and how Maplewood isn't just some crazy, sexist a-hole. Sandfeather is just as guilty - if not more guilty - than her mate. That story, which will be titled "Beautiful Liar" will be posted soon as well.**

**I also plan to write a short story on Batwing and how he and Dove met.**

**So keep an eye out for these things in the future if you find that you really enjoy this story. :)**

**I do not own Warriors.**

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**Cats or Mice?**

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**Courage and bravery is totally overrated.**

It seems like every big, epic story always has that sappy "inspirational" scene where the main character faces their friends, or their comrades and says something meaningful. They talk about how far they've all come, and how, no matter what the future holds, they can face it together; that same-old "love-will-conquer-all" mouse-dung. And as we were heading back to camp to discuss Fallen Shadow and Rose Thorn with the others, I honestly thought that was what was going to happen. Someone – maybe an experienced member like Sparrow, or maybe someone sharp and full of fire like Dove – would stand in front of everyone and encourage them. They'd give some grand speech full of empty words that would pump us up for make a few sun-shifts, and then we would fall back into the pit of despair. There was no way we would win in a fight against these cats.

Don't get me wrong: the group was amazing. I had never felt so happy, or so at home in my entire life than when I was with them. But they were not fighters, and certainly not warriors. I was practically an invalid when it came to combat, and I doubted that anyone else in the group knew any more about battle tactics, and battle moves than I did. I could see Dove or Pire knowing some things about battle – they had a habit of reminding me of Clan cats with the things they said, and the way they viewed certain things. As for the others – Falcon and Sparrow were absolutely out of the question. Sparrow was seemed to be the more pacifistic type, and I could just see Falcon shying away from the mere sight of blood. Nettle and Hunter would probably fight – they would need some training, but they seemed like they would be capable. Ange, while spunky, was a bit too old to be fighting younger, stronger cats. And I hardly knew anything about Damp or Lithe. They were very solitary, and also not very verbal.

When we reached the camp, Dove and Falcon bounded up to greet us. When they noticed we were empty-pawed, Falcon gave me a sympathetic look. "No luck?"

"Oh we had luck, alright!" Pire snarled, his eyes locking with his sister's. As if she could read his mind, Dove suddenly braced herself. She straightened up and flattened her ears against her head. She looked more like a seasoned soldier than ever, and her scar only added to the effect.

"Others?" she guessed, remaining rather calm. Falcon, however, seemed to be having a mini panic attack.

"What!? Other cats? Where did they come from? Did they hurt you guys!? Are you okay?!" Falcon demanded, looking at us all harder, searching for injuries.

"What's all the ruckus?" Hunter's deep, rumble asked as he approached the patrol. Nettle, Sparrow and Ange followed close behind. Damp hung back, her eyes wide. She looked to be more skittish than usual.

"We ran into a group of other cats," Lithe explained. I was surprised that _she _was the one who spoke up. More often than not, she was more of the quiet, clever one. Much like myself, she seemed to stand back and let other, more vocal cats take the lead and speak up. Apparently, not today.

"How many?" Dove asked grimly. Her face was almost rueful, and her claws were unsheathed. I knew what she was thinking – how to eliminate them. My pelt prickled with unease. I had no doubt that Dove would be able to fight but . . . it just didn't seem wise, especially with the almost nonexistent army behind her.

"We only met two, but they said they had more," Pire explained.

"They could be bluffing," Hunter offered. He also seemed eager to jump in and fight. His bright, yellowish-green eyes were glinting in excitement.

"Or they could be telling the truth," the always wise Sparrow pointed out. "We don't know who they are, and we don't have a reason to fight them." He shot Dove a warning glance at this. "Look, why don't we just leave them alone?"

"They don't know where our camp is yet, but what if they find out?" Pire asked sharply. "These cats weren't normal nomads like us – they were territorial. They didn't want us hunting anywhere near their camp. If they find out that we're setup nearby, they'll try to drive us out. Cats could die."

"Cats _will_ die if we fight," Sparrow replied. "Look, why don't we just leave? We don't have to fight with these cats, and we can go somewhere else."

Dove lashed her tail in annoyance. "And let them drive us out? We can't just back down like a terrified nest of mice! We have to stand and show them that we are not going to be pushed around!"

I kept silent, not wanting to get in on this discussion. I was a fairly new member of the group, and it wasn't really my place to say anything. But I had heard Dove's argument a thousand times. Her logic – the idea that you needed to show your enemies how strong you were, and that you wouldn't be pushed around – was exactly how the Clans functioned. To me, Sparrow's idea was the most logical. It made sense to just leave and leave those cats behind. I never really understood why it was so important to prove your strength, or your power to someone you didn't even give two mouse tails about. Why did cats like to display their dominance so much?

Sparrow narrowed his eyes. "Dove, what you are suggesting – fighting these cats – it's foolish. What if one of our own dies? What if Pire dies? Or Ice? Or Damp? Or Ange? Or any of us? Would the death of someone we care about be worth it?"

Dove glowered at the ground. "Sparrow . . . we can't just . . . leave."

"Dove's right," Ange spoke up. "We cannot let these cats drive us out! Look . . . we've made a life here. We've created a life of our own – a family. We cannot just abandon it."

"Family doesn't depend on where you live, Ange," Sparrow pointed out. "It's about the cats around you. And by fighting, we might lose members of our family."

When Dove didn't speak up again, Pire took her place, arguing to show Fallen Shadow and his cats who was boss. However, I wasn't interested in the discussion anymore; my eyes were trained on Dove. All of a sudden, she looked so small . . . and almost scared. She was thinking about something in that wild brain of hers . . . but what was it? Was she thinking about her brother dying? Or some of her friends?

Then it hit me: Batwing.

If we moved away, she would have to leave Batwing behind.

That was why she had been fighting so hard to stay.

"Enough of this quarreling!" Ange suddenly yowled, bringing all arguments to a halt. She glowered around at the younger cats, her hackles raised. "Since it's clear that we are not going to make an agreement any time soon, why don't we make it fair? Let's vote. Those who want to leave, raise your tails."

I watched as Sparrow was the first to raise his tail. Shortly afterward, I saw Falcon's hesitantly rise. Damp's followed, and then Hunter's and Nettle's. I waited. Should I raise my tail? Should I advocate for peace? If I decided that we should fight, the vote would be tied . . . I took a deep breath, and raised mine as well.

Seeing that his side was outnumbered, Pire cursed under his breath. "Fine . . ." he grudgingly agreed. "When should we leave?"

Dove didn't take part in the conversation after that. Instead, she turned tail and ran. I watched her as she pelted away from camp, toward the forest. _She's gone to see Batwing,_ I thought sadly. I realized that this situation would not only affect her, but me and Batwing too. Batwing would lose both of us, and I would never see him again. Was there ever a way to win?

When I looked back to the others, they were murmuring remorsefully to themselves about the whole affair – at least, all but Falcon. My friend was watching me with an almost knowing glance. It was as if he was trying to communicate with me telepathically. "Falcon and I are going to go after Dove – make sure she doesn't get into trouble," I meowed.

The others looked at me then, and I saw myriad emotions in their faces. Pire was grim, but seemed to give consent. Ange's eyes were narrowed with distrust, and the faces of Hunter, Damp, and Lithe were all indifferent to the idea. Sparrow's and Nettle's eyes were sparkling with amusement, as if they were a part of some inside joke that Falcon and I were not aware of.

"Ice," Pire's voice meowed before I could turn to leave.

I looked over at the creamy-brown tom. His dark brown eyes were shining with a mixture of worry and regret. "Yes?" I mewed with an odd sense of timidity. What was he going to ask me? Could I even do it?

"Bring my sister back to me."

I dipped my head. "I won't come back without her, Pire. I promise."

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A/N: Review?


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